


Entrench

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elrond’s reunited in Valinor.





	Entrench

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissManiac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissManiac/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for MissManiac’s “"2. Owls" with Elrond/Thranduil. Established relationship, some kind of (happy or resolved angst) reunion” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/163120603835/prompt-list-4).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Early in the night, when the stars are fresh but most of his house sleeps, Elrond stands at the balcony, overlooking Valinor. Nothing ever seems to change in it—in some places, things look as though they’ve gone untouched through all the ages. But Elrond can _feel_ something different—a certain crispness in the air, a warmth on the wind, that wasn’t there when he awoke this morning. He couldn’t put it into words. He hasn’t felt this way for many years, since he first set sail west. He can’t quite remember what precipitated it back then. 

He enjoys it just as it is. He enjoys the view every night, though it hasn’t been new in some time. It’s still pleasant, strangely comfortable, wonderfully _peaceful_. There’s nothing to want for in this haven. Except, of course, for those he left behind. 

And Elrond tries not to think of them, because it stirs a familiar longing in his chest that makes it hard to breathe. He tells himself they’ll all join him eventually, and he need only be patient—there’s no sense agonizing over it now. He’s hardly _lonely_. He has many he loves here, elves he once knew long ago who still welcomed him with open arms. He looks forward to the day when he can introduce his children to them. He misses them most of all. And there’s another, one he always tries not to picture in his mind, that haunts him in moments like this, where he could swear he can almost smell the familiar hint of cedar in the cool night air—

Then someone drawls smoothly behind him, “You always were a night owl.”

And Elrond, drawn as much by surprise as awe, turns to look over his shoulder. 

Without thinking, he murmurs back, “So were you.”

Thranduil grins. The expression suits him well, like most do, his thin smile stretching deep enough to dimple his cheeks, almost as much a _smirk_ as smile. His pale eyes seem to glimmer with it. His handsome figure steps forward, silhouetted in the candlelight of the room behind him—Elrond’s room. Someone must have let him in. Elrond can understand why. Thranduil wears his crown even here, the winter branches sporting evergreen nettles that rest lightly against his golden hair. He looks no less lordly for being in a land full of them, and he’s just as beautiful as Elrond remembers him.

It’s devastating, in a way, and Elrond’s hands tighten around the railing, forcing himself to keep standing. Thranduil glides forward like dancing over water, graceful and entrancing, until he stands right next to Elrond. The proximity almost makes Elrond shiver. Thranduil often makes him feel strangely _young_ again, though this land is ageless, and Thranduil is his junior. Thranduil seems to enjoy soaking in his shock and basking in his captivation.

Elrond breathes, “I did not know you planned to sail.” At least, not for many years. And it hasn’t been so long since Elrond left, since the two of them stood like this, side by side, looking out over one of their kingdoms or the other for the final few times. 

Thranduil answer wryly, “You made it difficult for me not to.” Then he reaches his arm around Elrond’s waist, drawing Elrond tight against him, and for once, Elrond lets himself be easily guided. He has no room for annoyance over Thranduil’s flare for the dramatic, not even over the aggravating absence of any letter or warning, because the pleasure at his company is too great for anything else. Thranduil leans forward to brush his lips over Elrond’s, and Elrond finally loosens enough to return it, pressing chastely back. 

Thranduil licks at his bottom lip, asking entry, but Elrond pulls away before that. A part of him would very much like to give in to Thranduil’s preferences and consummate their reunion right here, out beneath the stars, for all to see—but Valinor hasn’t changed him _that_ much. He chooses words instead, promising, “I never meant to tear you from Middle Earth.”

“You did no such thing,” Thranduil chuckles lightly, because he always finds one way or another to ruin the romance of the moment and exasperate Elrond to some extent. “I made my own decision. And I was growing tired of watching my forest fade anyway. But enough of that for now—now that I am here, we should not waste the night brooding over balconies.”

Elrond crooks one brow, coaxed to retort, “I was hardly brooding.” It might take some time again, he realizes, to build his resistance to Thranduil’s prodding back up. 

In the meantime, Thranduil ducks in again to bite at Elrond’s bottom lip, tugging it lightly between his teeth before swiping a hot tongue over the bruise it makes. Elrond has to suppress another shiver—he’s _missed this._

So, this once, he gives in, letting Thranduil tug him back towards his chambers. But he vows to discuss this in the end, to catch up and speak and simply _hold_ one another, after they’ve felt this reunion to their very bones.


End file.
